Become a Member
TV

I May Destroy You: The Jewish connection

The BBC summer hit gave voice to the British Black experience - but there was a touch of Jewish music in the soundtrack and script

September 25, 2020 09:28
Micaela Coel, creator and star of I May Destroy You
4 min read

 

‘Do you need social media?’ Disappointed by her friend Kwame, who has gone on a date with a woman on the pretense that he is straight, yet another story of man betraying woman—this time involving a man she trusted and cared deeply about—Arabella goes to see her therapist. If you watched I May Destroy You, the BBC summer sensation, you may remember the visuals of this episode well, as it is Halloween, and Michaela Coel, the writer, director, and lead actor of the series, is clad head-to-foot in a black devil costume, giant Maleficent horns emerging from her forehead, a force to be reckoned with.

But in this scene, she is doing something that the rest of the episode, as she populates Instagram with righteous thoughts and fierce images of herself, has her failing to do: listening. Her therapist questions Arabella’s (oh, and all of our!) internet addictions, the compulsive need for affirmation in the virtual world. ‘Do you remember the three R’s?’ she asks Arabella. Arabella remembers: rest, reflect, rejuvenate. ‘Look, if you can’t abandon it altogether,’ she suggests, ‘take a break.’ Arabella pauses, groans, but her therapist continues. ‘We take breaks. We don’t work weekends. We break for half-term. Even a cantor has a sabbatical.’

Wait—what? How did that line end up in a BBC television series that does an incredible job of giving voice to Black British experiences—without ever actually reducing Black Britishness to a monolith? As Bolu Babalola writes in Vulture, ‘It would be easy to call [the series’] Black Britishness a “lens,” but “lens” is clinical and anthropological — “lens” is external and removable. It is less of a lens and more of a feeling that coats the chords of the show. A culture rarely seen in mainstream television, it’s not that Black Britishness (and the specificity of being a Black Londoner) assists in telling the story, nor is it that Black Britishness is its own character within the story. It is that it helps form the story. The rhythm and pulses chug narrative along, enriching the grain of the series. It’s a millennial tale, but it’s a Black British millennial tale, and within the nucleus of Black Britishness is a nexus of cultures, a diasporic mutuality that recognises our diversity whilst also drawing them together in communion.’ This is a series with nary a Jewish character in sight.